


Greece Remembers

by Elizabeth_Scripturient



Category: Time Bandits (1981)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-01
Updated: 2005-09-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 23:07:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elizabeth_Scripturient/pseuds/Elizabeth_Scripturient
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the movie, Agammemnon comes back for Kevin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Greece Remembers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emma](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Emma).



> It's [](http://diadeloro.livejournal.com/profile)[**diadeloro**](http://diadeloro.livejournal.com/)'s fault for making me watch the movie. Though in fairness to her, when I mentioned this pairing, her immediate reaction was, "Jesus you're sick and twisted."
> 
> Warning for sexual behavior between an adult male and an underage male. Nothing beyond kissing and touching.
> 
> Thanks to [](http://bella-loki.livejournal.com/profile)[**bella_loki**](http://bella-loki.livejournal.com/) for encouragement and beta-ing. I checked a couple things with [](http://community.livejournal.com/hp_britglish/profile)[**hp_britglish**](http://community.livejournal.com/hp_britglish/), but any errors are mine. (I learned that England has no Boston Market equivalent, but I didn't like the takeaway options, so the inaccuracy stays.) Thanks to the Internet for helping me find Scottish names.

Kevin stood there, staring at the wisps of smoke coming from the black patches on the ground that used to be his parents, then shifting his gaze to what was left of his house.

All he'd wanted since Agamemnon adopted him was to stay there, in Greece, with him. He'd finally found someone who cared about him and who wanted to take care of him, who wanted him to be part of his family without demanding he be anything but himself. And then Randall and the others had to come and take all that away from him. At least he'd been having adventures dragged along with them. Now he was back where he belonged -- in so much as he had ever belonged there -- and the people obligated to take care of him, not to mention the very roof over his head, were gone and he was left with nothing, alone.

He tried to remember the names of his relatives and his stomach sank as he remembered how little he enjoyed spending any time with them. His eyes were beginning to well up with tears when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He blinked hurriedly and turned around. He tilted his head back and looked up into the face of the firefighter who so resembled Agamemnon.

The man bent down and said, in that familiar Scottish accent, "Why don't you come home with me, boy?"

Kevin smiled and gladly followed after him. He was a little saddened to see that Agamemnon had come back in his own car, as he'd always dreamt of being able to ride in a fire engine. But he couldn't complain too much, given how much he had lost in the past few minutes.

Agamemnon -- or whatever his name was in this time -- didn't say anything as they drove, so Kevin just stared out the window. The plastic pastel houses faded away as they turned onto the highway, and he nearly lost himself staring out into the trees and grass. Then the scenery changed again, buildings tall and close together, made out of stone or brick and with lots of windows. They pulled up in front of one, and then Agamemnon was opening his door. Kevin got out, still gazing up at the buildings, following Agamemnon unthinkingly up the stairs, trailing his hand along the rickety metal railing. Agamemnon unlocked the front door, fighting a bit with the sticky door, and then held it open, allowing Kevin to enter first.

Kevin walked in, still feeling dazed, and was promptly surprised anew. He stared at the living room. Beige carpet. Couch and armchair of matching darker brown, and soft-looking material. A framed painting of dark rich colors. Wooden bookcases filled with musty looking books. He had never been anywhere so earthy. At least not in modern-day England. And this was a much more attractive kind of earthy than most of what he'd suffered during his time traveling.

"Oh, wow. This is a great place, Mister -- "

The older man cocked his head. "Y' don't remember m' name, boy?"

"Oh no, I do. But that was so long ago. I thought certainly you must go by something different now."

"Right you are, boy. Name's Akir now. Akir Mannus, but you can just call me Akir."

"Yes, sir. I mean, Akir."

And Akir smiled kindly down at him. "I've gotta get back to work, sonny. I begged off for a while to come back and get you and bring you back here -- didn't seem right to leave you all alone in the world -- but I've gotta get back. I'll be back by dinnertime, though there's food in the fridge to get you through lunch. Make yourself at home."

Kevin thought that "home" was just about the last place he wanted to make this place like.

But, maybe -- maybe he could make "home" a good word. Maybe this could be "home" in that way it is in books -- that place the adventurers are pleased to return to.

Aga-- Akir didn't seem to have a television. He did have a lot of books, though.

Kevin ran his fingers reverently along the leather spines and gold lettering. Many of the titles were in languages, and sometimes even alphabets, he couldn't understand, but he found his way to a section of titles he _could_ read and quickly found an interesting looking one. He hefted it out of the bookcase and curled up in a deep red armchair.

Young Jim Hawkins' adventures felt disturbingly similar to his own, but he was engrossed nonethless. So much so that he didn't even notice Akir return -- or he wouldn't have had Akir not jovially cried out, "Honey, I'm home," followed by an uproarious laugh, as he walked in the door.

Kevin hastily put down the book. He looked around for something with which to mark his place, and seeing no loose paper, he pulled a Polaroid out of his bag and stuck it in the book to mark his place.

He was spared having to come up with an appropriate response by Akir's continued litany. "I brought home some dinner. I've been remiss in grocery shopping and didn't wanna take the time today -- leave you alone any longer than I had to -- so I got a takeaway. I'm working the late shift tomorrow night, so I'll bring you along for the grocery shopping in the morning, let you pick out what you like. You seemed happy enough to eat anything back in Greece, but as I recall you were well and truly starving at the time, too."

"I'm sure whatever you bought is fine." His family usually bought microwave dinners.

He followed Akir into what he supposed was a dining room. A red rug with dark patterning covered the floor, and large wooden bookcases all along the walls made the room feel even smaller than it actually was. A solid wooden table, circular in shape, sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by four matching chairs.

"I don't usually have company, but I keep the place dusted. 'S a little cramped. Hope you don't mind too much."

Kevin was speechless as Akir spread the food out on the table. A large container of chunks of pork in some sort of dark sauce. A bowl of green beans and another of small reddish potatoes. Real food and sufficient amounts to boot. Kevin scooped large helpings onto his plate.

"I see you found my library. I take it you haven't ventured farther into the house?"

Kevin shook his head, quickly chewing the hunk of pork in his mouth. Swallowing, he said, "No sir."

"Well that's quite all right. You'll have plenty of time for that in the days to come. Though I imagine it isn't quite as spacious as what you're used to."

Kevin wasn't sure whether he meant his parents' house or the palace in Greece. He shoved more food into his mouth so as to have an excuse not to say anything.

Akir rambled on happily about amusing stories people had told at work and suchlike, and Kevin listened with a smile. He was mostly pleased about all the food, and only let Akir think the smile was for the conversation, but as his stomach filled, he found himself actually enjoying Akir's stories.

Before he realized it, he was actually asking questions. "Do you _really_ think that's why Mrs Kimball's cat didn't want to come down out of the tree?" "So why _didn't_ Robert want to go talk to Sam?" They were like people in a storybook, far more interesting than the people his parents used to talk about at the supper table.

When Akir got up from the table, Kevin felt a stab akin to panic, but it turned out that Akir was just going to get dessert -- apple cobbler and a large carton of vanilla ice cream.

Akir continued to tell his own stories, though now they were well into previous days. There were many times when Kevin could have chimed in with stories of his own if he had been so inclined, but Akir never paused long enough for it to be awkward, never asked Kevin any questions.

Eventually they had finished off all the food and Akir began to clear off the table. "Y' better finish that tale y' were reading, or you'll suffer nightmares wondering how it all ends."

"How do you know I was reading a scary story?" Kevin asked, a little offended at the implication that he was still susceptible to nightmares.

"Because I haven't got any other kind," Akir replied, grinning.

Kevin had nearly finished the book already, so it wasn't long before he was sliding it back into the shelf and tracing new metallic titles with his fingers.

Akir looked up over his paper. "Ready to turn in for the night?"

Kevin looked hesitantly back and forth between the bookshelf and Akir.

"I promise the books'll still be here tomorrow," Akir said, smiling gently.

Kevin smiled back, not at all sure that he trusted anymore that anything would remain the same after an evening but trying.

He followed Akir to a room that looked much the same as the living and dining rooms, only with a bed and a closet

"I've only got the one bedroom, so I'm afraid y're gunna have to share the bed -- 'nless y' fancy sleepin' on th' floor."

"Oh no, sir. I mean, Akir, sir." Kevin shook his head in defeat, suddenly feeling very awkward, and Akir touched his shoulder. "It's all right, boy."

"Thank you. And truly, I don't mind sharing a bed."

"All right then. We'll just have to get you some pyjamas."

Kevin didn't have any clothes except what he had been wearing when he got dropped back into his own time. It somehow hadn't occurred to him to go into his house and get anything. He'd survived a variety of near-death experiences in a variety of eras with just his Polaroid camera, so why would he need anything when he was in a fully furnished apartment in modern-day England? Thinking back, he realized he was also terrified of getting anywhere near anything that remained of that Evil rock.

Akir tossed him a t-shirt. Kevin held it up in front of his body and saw that it fell well below his knees. As sleepwear it would be fine.

"We'll go get you some real clothes, tomorrow."

Kevin nodded. It was fitting, he supposed. Greece was the only place he hadn't been magicked into time-appropriate clothes. Agamemnon had been kind enough to actually give him a tunic. That outfit felt like the only thing he'd ever really owned during all that traveling.

He didn't really care much about clothes, but it would be nice to get to pick out his own, rather than just standing around while his parents pressed their own tastes onto him.

His gut pained as he thought of his parents. They were dead and gone, and here he was, happy as could be in some stranger's house. Not that he thought anyone would particularly miss him, and he imagined his parents would have been pleased to have got rid of him if he had been spirited away while they lived, but it still felt strange and wrong about to be so happy after such an event.

He had changed out of his clothes now. As had Akir. The older man wore a white undershirt and red flannel boxers. He got into bed after Kevin, spooning against the boy, his arms 'round him.

When Kevin slept, he dreamt, remembered the one night in Greece he had shared this man's bed. Remembered lying chest to chest, nude. Remembered Agamemnon hard against his leg, pulling him up towards his face and kissing him.

He woke up to the sun streaming in through open windows and the smell of coffee and bacon.

He stumbled out of the room, rubbing his eyes and following the scent. He stumbled into a polished white kitchen.

Akir was already dressed -- blue jeans and a beige polo shirt, though the loafers he was wearing looked more like slippers.

He was frying eggs and bacon and had a pot of coffee brewing.

"I know I told you I'd take y' shopping today, and I will, but food shopping on an empty stomach is never a good idea."

Kevin nodded absently, suddenly feeling very hungry.

After finishing off half a plate of food, he felt more settled.

"Akir, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, boy. Anything."

"What happened -- after I left Greece?"

Akir sighed. "Clytemnestra didn't much fancy you. I made you my son, gave you rights to all of Mycenae, but she wouldn't have stood for it, not for long. When you were first gone, I thought it had been her doing. But they'd taken my crown, too, and I knew if she'd been involved she wouldn't have let any little men steal away the crown. But she was glad you were gone, that's for sure."

Kevin nodded, waiting for him to continue.

"Y'know, when those little men grabbed you away, I thought it was just a game a' course. But even when you were gone for good, I knew I'd see you again, knew it in my bones. And now, here you are." He leaned over and squeezed Kevin's hand in his.


End file.
